The shearing gang is alive and well over here

It was day 3 in Prague.  I needed a haircut.  A web sites of local ex-pats mentioned some places and I duly pick one of them described as having good English or at least “Slovish”. 

The conversation is a little stilted though I think we’re on the right track.

 Turns out not. 

A set of clippers, 5 minutes and 100 crown (about NZD$5.00) later there is a swathe of hair at my feet and none on my head.  Not quite how I envisaged this going.

Depending on whether you take the

1.       optimistic view- I look like a monk, or;

2.       the pessimistic view – looking like a white supremacist,

the hair experiment of a beard in Asia has now been exchanged for no hair in Eastern Europe. 

The"Prague Hair Police" waiting on the steps behind